The Artist
by HungryForMore74
Summary: Peeta Mellark baked for a living, but he painted to live. Like every other struggling artist in the city, he had yet to be discovered.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Peeta Mellark took a deep breath, rolled his head and cracked his neck. "In with the good air, out with the bad air." He opened the employee entrance door and tip-toed towards the lockers. The aroma of fresh baked bread mixed with the scent of pies, cakes, muffins, and cookies warmed his chest. He took a black and white cookie off the rack. Eaten with a Yoo-Hoo, it was the breakfast of champions.

"Peeta Mellark."

The high pitched screech reminded him of fingernails on a blackboard. "Good morning ..." He swallowed. "Mother."

Peeta towered over his five-foot-nothing mother but she managed to back him up against the wall. She waved a wooden spoon in front of his face. Chocolate spattered on his face and the wall like he just witnessed a mob murder.

"Do you know how much work you have today?" He shook his head.

"Besides your regular cakes you have the Cologino wedding cake."

Peeta's eyes got tremendous.

"It's five layers." She leaned in. "Have you heard me? Five layers!"

He nodded.

"And it better be perfect. You know who the bride's father is, don't you?"

He shook his head.

"Let's put it this way, it's hard to walk with broken kneecaps."

His body shook.

"And wipe your face. It's filthy."

Peeta exhaled. At least, he didn't have to hump fifty-pound bags off the delivery truck today. That job fell to his brothers.

"Hey Peeta," Rye said from across the backroom. He flipped him the middle finger. "Go decorate your pretty cakes."

He shrugged.

Peeta finished all the regular cakes and was finishing up the wedding cake. He filled the piping bag with white icing and made little white flowers around the edge.

"Those are nice. They look like the white arrowhead flowers in the meadow back home," his father said.

Peeta stopped and peered at them. A broad smile appeared on his face. He chuckled to himself.

"Hey."

Peeta jumped to attention.

"You finish that cake yet?"

"Almost done Mother."

"You better be. Cologino's men will be here soon to pick it up and I don't have any plans to push you around in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

Peeta finished, untied his apron and tossed it in the hamper from twenty feet. "Swish, two points." He raced to the exit.

"You're in a hurry," his brother said.

"I am. I've been inspired and I don't want to lose it."

He caught Rye flipping him the bird out of the corner of his eye. "Thanks for the help a-hole."

"No problem bro."

Peeta's feet splashed in every puddle he stepped in as he ran home. The early afternoon shower washed the grime down the sewer. He took a deep breath of fresh air before the usual smells of the city returned.

He was soaked when he reached his building. The stairs were no match for him in this inspired state. Through his door one piece of clothing after another flew off his body as he ran to get dry clothes. Loose sweatpants and an oversized football jersey, both covered in a dizzying array of colors, was his artist uniform.

Peeta Mellark baked for a living, but he painted to live. His ability to mix colors was unparalleled. His yellows were brighter, blues deeper and reds more intense. He could paint objects, but his ability to paint people set him apart. When you looked into the eyes of his subjects you could almost see into their soul. Like every other struggling artist in the city, he had yet to be discovered.

He filled the canvas with the small white flowers, stepped back and had dinner. Next was a challenge.

After he shoved his dinner down he stared at the painting. He wore a path in the carpet pacing in front of it. When he tried to sit he crossed and uncrossed his arms and legs. The focal point of the painting was stuck in his head.

Peeta lowered his head till his chin rested on his chest. He looked at his palette and tested mix after mix trying to find the perfect balance to contrast with the white flowers.

He rubbed his arms and poured white on a new palette. Then he mixed it with a minute amount of blue. It cooled the white, but would it stand out?

"The hell with it, here we go."

The brush floated across the canvas like it had a mind of its own. With each stroke, the painting came alive.

Peeta's best friend and fellow artist, Finnick O'Dair critiqued the painting. He looked at it up close, from across the room, from the right and then the left. All the time Peeta stood behind him biting his nails.

"You know you'll bleed if you keep biting your nails like that," Finnick said.

Peeta widened his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. "How do you know I'm biting my nails."

With one eyebrow raised Finnick turned around. "You always do that when you're waiting for my opinion."

"Alright, forget about my nasty habits, what do you think."

Finnick smiled and patted Peeta on the back. "My friend, you've outdone yourself this time. She's perfect."

A girl in a white prairie skirt and white top strolled through the meadow. That little bit of blue in the dress was enough for it to stand out. She had black hair and dark eyes. Her head turned slightly downwards, but she looked upwards with a tight-lipped, shy smile.

Peeta let out a long breath. "Thanks, Finnick."

"Who was the model?"

"I didn't use one. I just used my imagination."

"I'm not surprised."

"What does that mean?"

"You've been describing your perfect girl to me forever. The height, hair color, length, eyes."

Peeta snarled at Finnick.

"Don't look at me like that." Finnick flashed his perfect white teeth andPeeta relaxed. "What do you call it?"

Peeta turned and stared at the painting. "Haven't thought of a title yet."

"What are those little white flowers?"

"We have them at home. They're called arrowhead or katniss."

"I like katniss, call it that."

"Then katniss it is. Its name is Katniss, no, her name is Katniss." Peeta stepped back and admired his work. "You know, she really is beautiful."

"Come on. We have a party to go to."

Peeta pursed his lips and averted his eyes. He scratched his arm like a rash appeared out of nowhere. "I don't know Finnick. I'm really not in the mood."

"Oh no you don't, you're not backing out on me again. You're my wingman."

The purpose of a wingman is to keep the friend of the girl Finnick was hitting on busy. "No, I hate being the wingman." He tried to create an excuse by rubbing his temples.

"Don't give me that I've got a headache bullshit." He smacked Peeta on the arm. "Come on, I need you. I got my eye on this cute redhead. She has the greenest eyes."

"What's her name?"

"Amy, I think. No, it's Ally." Finnick put his hands on his hips and looked away. "You know, it might be Abby."

"You don't know?"

"Angie, that's it."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really, but I know it starts with an 'A' and ends with a 'y'."

"Angie ends in an 'ie'."

"Or an 'ie'."

Peeta shook his head. "Nevermind that, you're giving me a headache. What's your move?"

"I'm gonna ask her to model for me. Girls are suckers for that."

Peeta frowned. "I don't know, I think I'll work on the painting."

"She's already perfect. There are like a gazillion girls out there who are not five foot eight, dark black hair and eyes so dark you can't tell the difference between her pupil and iris who are real flesh and blood waiting to meet you."

Peeta shook his head. "I date all types of girls. Remember Lisa, Olivia, and Katie. And that was just in the last couple of months."

"Why didn't you have any second dates?"

"Things just didn't click."

"Bull. Lisa was too short. Olivia was tall but a redhead. Katie was tall enough with dark hair but had green eyes."

Peeta felt his blood pressure rise. He folded his arms and glared at Finnick. "Alright, whatever, let me take a shower and change."

"That's the spirit." He smacked Peeta on the back. "Hey, maybe you'll meet your Katniss there."

"Did you have a good time?" Finnick asked.

"Yeah, thanks for dragging me. I've kinda let my social life go to the dogs."

"That's not true. Dogs usually get laid more often."

"Hey, you struck out tonight too." Peeta fumbled for his keys. "Did you ever find out that redhead's name? You worked on her long enough."

"All I know it isn't any of the ones I thought it was."

"Better luck next time." Peeta slumped his head.

Finnick slapped Peeta's arm. "Don't worry bud. You didn't find her tonight. Maybe you'll find her tomorrow."

When Peeta nodded his head it was only to placate his friend. "You're right Finnick. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Peeta sat in the recliner and stared at the portrait. He questioned who Katniss was. Did he imagine her, or was she out there somewhere? What was she like? What were her wants and needs? Her desires? Was she around now or has she been dead for hundreds of years. "I don't think I'll ever get answers to those questions." Peeta went off to bed. Maybe the answers will come to him in his dreams.

"Peeta. Wake up Peeta." Her voice was as welcome as the sunrise that starts to warm a cool morning. Peeta did not want to get up. This was the best dream he had in a long time. "Come on Peeta, time to get up."

Peeta stretched before opening his eyes. "Why does this dream have to end?" Peeta opened them and standing above him was the girl of his dreams. She had long black hair and deep brown eyes. He tried to peer into her soul when he looked into her eyes. "I guess the dream didn't end."

She leaned down, and her lips were so soft he melted. "Don't be silly, it's time to get up." She walked away from the bed and stripped off her nightgown.

"Wow!"

"Is that all you have to say?" She asked. "I'm taking a shower. You're welcome to join me."

Peeta couldn't help but stare at her perfect butt. "Wow." _... ring ... ring ... ring_ "Hey Finnick."

"How you fellin'? Hungover?"

"Nah, you just woke me from the best dream I ever had. There was a girl in it who was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. She had just stripped down to take a shower. I was staring at her perfect ass when you woke me."

"Sorry bud. Maybe if you go back to sleep you'll get laid."

Peeta laughed, and it felt good. "I can't believe how real it was. I can still hear the shower running."

"Hey, that's funny, I can hear your shower running too."

He got up to look in the bathroom. "You're right. The shower is on." He opened the door and pulled away the curtain.

"Hey handsome, decided to join me."

Peeta stood straight up, stepped back and slipped on the wet floor. The phone dropped. "Wo, wo, wo, ahhhhh!"

The girl grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower. "Oh my God honey, are you alright?" Peeta looked like he just saw a ghost. "You're as white as a sheep. Let me see if you're running a fever." She reached over to kiss his forehead, but he scurried away dragging his butt along the floor until he hit the hallway wall. "What is wrong with you Peeta?"

His heart raced. He didn't know who this strange woman was, but she was kinda familiar. The black hair and the dark brown eyes that pierced you. "Just tell me who you are."

"Oh my God Peeta, I think we should call an ambulance. You hit your head harder than I thought."

"No, no, no. Just tell me who you are."

She softened up but Peeta didn't relax. She knelt on the floor in front of him and stroked his face. Peeta barely felt her touch.

"Just tell me your name. Please."

"I'm your girlfriend, Katniss."

Now he knew something was up. "Did Finnick put you up to this."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, you talk about Finnick all the time but you've yet to introduce me. I'm beginning to believe you have an imaginary friend." She put out her hand and helped him to his feet.

"You don't understand. My painting is called Katniss. Because ... well ... just look at this." He took her by the hand to his studio. "Here look." He pulled the cover off it. "See."

She just nodded. "I know Peeta. They look like the flowers that you have back home. You've told me this over and over."

He shook his head. "No! The woman!" Peeta looked at the flowers that filled the page. And just the flowers. "Where'd she go?"

"Who?"

"The girl, Katniss. She was in the painting"

She raised one eyebrow. "In case you haven't noticed, Katniss is standing right in front of you." She grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to her and planted a powerful kiss on his lips. "Did that feel like a kiss from a painting?"

Peeta shook his head.

"So it felt real?"

He nodded.

"So, why don't you get undressed and make me an hour late." She walked away and dropped the towel.

Peeta's legs almost gave way looking at her sway her hips. "I'm right behind you!"

"Peeta, you still on the line? Hello, hey don't leave me hanging. Oh shit, I'm just gonna hang up." . _..click_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Reviews are very helpful so please take a second and review. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Peeta tiptoed to his studio and dialed the phone. "Finnick, it's me."

"Hey, why did you leave me hanging on the phone dude?"

"Sorry, I was having sex."

"Oh, Christ. You finally got laid. Thank God-"

"Nevermind that. Get over here now."

Peeta paced back and forth. He ran out of nails to bite. He pulled Finnick in as soon as he knocked.

"So tell me about her. What does she look like?"

"Shut up Finnick."

"Was she good in bed? Do you think-"

"I'm begging you to stop talking."

"Okay, okay, okay, okay-"

"Why are you still talking?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just so excited for you and-"

Peeta placed his hand over Finnick's mouth. "You need to calm down before you hyperventilate. Now deep and easy breaths." Finnick's chest rose and fell three times. "Better?" Peeta pulled his hand off his mouth.

"I'm better."

"Okay, like I said on the phone. I woke up with her over me."

"Was she naked?"

"No. She wore a nightshirt?"

"Did she-" Peeta placed his hand over Finnick's mouth again.

"She asked me to take a shower with her." Finnick turned just one shade under the color of a fiery Hollywood explosion.

"She finally told me her name, Katniss."

"Who cares about her name, did you take a shower with her?"

"Don't you understand? She's the girl in the painting."

"So what, you're fucking your model. Something I wish I was doing."

"I never saw her before, I swear, but she's the girl. She stepped out of the picture."

Finnick pressed his lips together, his eyebrows and face tightened. Just as fast he broke out laughing. "You had me going there for awhile."

"No, I swear. Here, come see. She's not in the painting anymore."

Peeta dragged Finnick to his studio. The painting had a white drape over it. "Look." He flipped the cloth over. "See."

Finnick folded his arms and raised one eyebrow.

"See."

"You need a rest."

"What ..." Peeta's eyes grew wide. "Hey, she's back." Peeta looked at the back of the painting like he was looking a door. "How'd she get back in?"

"Alright, jokes over. I'll see you later. I have to go to work. People need their pictures framed."

Peeta trailed behind him, gasping. His chest tightened. "I swear it's true."

"Blah, blah, blah."

Peeta grabbed his arm. "Wait, I'll get her." He bolted to the bedroom. "Katniss, I want you to meet Finnick." Only the comforter met him. "Katniss, where are you?" The bathroom and kitchen were also empty.

"Maybe you and "Katniss" can have dinner with me and my "imaginary girlfriend" later," Finnick smirked and went for the door.

Peeta lowered his head. He threw the drape back over it and ambled back to his living room. He sighed as he plopped into his recliner. Visions of Katniss streamed through his mind. _I know I saw her._ He placed his chin in his palm and he leaned on his knee. _Am I sure I saw her? Maybe Finnick was right. Maybe I need a rest._

Peeta reclined the chair and closed his eyes. He drifted into a deep sleep.

 _Peeta, wake up._

 _No, a few more minutes._

His heart sped up when he felt her warm lips meet his. He struggled to keep his eyes closed and keep dreaming. Light streamed the slits as his eyes opened.

"Hey handsome."

"Hi, I just ..." He pushed himself back and the chair flipped over. He rolled on the floor. Sweat poured out of him. He pushed himself away from her.

She got down on all fours and crawled to him. "Peeta, what's wrong? You're white as a ghost."

"Um, um, um."

She crawled on top of him and kissed him hard. She bit his tongue. "What's wrong, Kat got your tongue?" She giggled.

"I'll be right back." He rolled her off him and sprinted to the studio, pulled the drape off the painting. "Ahhhhh!"

"Peeta, what's wrong?" Katniss said while she marched in. "Tossing me off wasn't very nice Peeta Mellark."

"You're not there." Peeta gawked at the painting, the girl was gone.

"That again. I'm over here." She walked behind him and smacked his ass. "Maybe you did hit your head. I'm going to change." She strolled out. Peeta froze, eyes wide, mouth open. His breathing quickened and he became lightheaded. He groped around for a chair, never taking his eyes off his painting.

"Peeta."

He found it hard but he finally turned. Katniss stood in the doorway in one of his tee-shirts. It fell to the top of her thighs. She twisted her hair in her finger. The lamplight glistened off her moist lips. She strolled over to Peeta and stood in front of him. He lowered his gaze and eyed her feet. His eyes moved along her legs. He brushed his hands against her thighs and reached her butt.

"Mmmmm, that feels good," she said. Katniss sat on his lap facing him. She cupped his face in her hands. They closed their eyes and kissed. Peeta couldn't catch his breath.

"Take me to bed," she said.

Peeta lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him. She locked her eyes with him as he walked to his bedroom. He lowered her to the bed and he crawled on top of her. She reached down and unbuckled his belt.

"I hope you don't mind."

He arched his back and moaned.

Peeta opened his eyes and spied the clock. His heart still raced from the night they spent together. "Oh crap, it's 2:30 AM. At least, I have thirty more till I have to get up. I don't think I slept much." He rolled over, sighed and swallowed hard. "Damn, she's gone again."

"Where do you think I went?" Katniss stood in the doorway with a tray.

Peeta's smile was broad. "Oh, nothing." He bounced as he sat up.

"You're always complaining that you're always late for work so I figured I make you breakfast." She placed the tray on his lap. "Eggs, bacon, toast and juice. Coffee will be ready soon." She bent over to pick up a napkin that fell.

Peeta leaned over to watch her.

"Watch it! You almost dropped everything." She returned Peeta to the upright position. She lay on her side next to Peeta and picked at his food.

He kissed her good-bye and left. Even this early in the morning cars sped past Peeta as he skipped to work. He strolled through the back door.

"Hey you."

The hair on the nape of Peeta's neck stood on end.

"Good morning mother."

"What's wrong?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not late."

"Sorry, I'm not used to you showing up on time." Peeta flashed a half smile. "You're lucky. The cake at the Cologino wedding was a hit." His mother frowned. "One of his "associate's" daughter wants a cake just like it now."

"That's good news, isn't it?"

"She wants pink flowers instead of white, raspberries instead of strawberries, rainbow-colored icing instead of just white."

"So just like it."

"And six layers instead of five." She stood on her toes and glared at Peeta. "Did you hear me? Six layers. Your poor father almost had an aneurysm making the last one."

"You call me," his father yelled.

"Get back to work," she bellowed.

"Okay dear."

She shook her head as she checked her clipboard. "That man is gonna work himself to death. Oh, by the way, she wants the flowers to be orchids."

"I don't know how to make orchids."

"Well learn. Did I tell you that the middle name of the father-of-the-bride is 'the'."

Peeta's eyes widened and his nods quickened. "As in Tony-the-Slasher?"

"Yeah, something like that? Why are you standing there? Get to work." She scampered off.

"Hey bro, what's with the big smile?" His brother Graham asked.

"Nothing, just happy."

"No, that's not it." Graham pursed his lips and nodded. "Don't worry, I'll figure it out."

Peeta blew through his work day with ease. He even found time to practice making orchids. He scrunched his nose.

"What the hell is that?"

Peeta shivered when his mother snuck up behind him. "It's my first shot at an orchid."

"You better do better than that if you don't want to be fitted for cement shoes."

Peeta's heart rate explode. He liked being alive. The orchid wasn't very good either. The color was off along with the shape.

"You're in a hurry," his father said.

"Yeah."

"Who's the girl?"

Peeta kept his head down and tied his shoes. "What are you talking about?"

"Bring her around sometime."

"There's no one dad."

His father cracked a half smile and patted Peeta on the back. "Have a good day son."

Peeta's heart pounded and he couldn't get the key in the slot. He took a deep breath. "Okay, relax, be one with the key." He got through the door. "Katniss, I'm home."

"In the kitchen."

Peeta peeked through the doorway. She had gone dark since he left this morning. She wore a black miniskirt, black top, and black tights. An orange apron was tied around her waist. "Did Halloween come and I just didn't notice."

Peeta almost jumped out of his skin. She gave him the same shy, innocent smile he painted her with.

"If you're good, I'll let you lick the spoon." She dabbed a little bit of chocolate icing on his nose. She bit the tip of his nose. "Sorry, I couldn't wait." She smacked him. "Listen, go take your shower. Your extremely early dinner is almost ready."

Peeta's stomach growled when he smelt the pot roast cooking. He dipped the spoon in the pot.

She smacked his hand. "Hey, go shower first."

"Alright, I'm going."

Peeta washed the flour off him. His phone rang as he was drying off.

"Hi, Effie."

"I'm outside. Open up."

"Did you ring the doorbell?"

"No. I stared at the door and waited for the force to do its thing."

"Okay, okay." Peeta wrapped the towel around his waist and sprinted to the door. "Katniss, Katniss." He looked around the small apartment. He opened the door. "Hi."

Effie raised her eyebrows. "Hi, handsome." He recoiled when she tugged his towel. "I'm here to pick up the painting for the exhibit."

"It's in the studio."

Effie's eyes were drawn to the painting under the drape. "What do we have here?"

Peeta chest pounded. "Don't touch that."

Effie cocked her head. "Why?"

"It's not finished. That's all." He handed Effie a wrapped painting.

"I'll let you know if there's any interest." Effie wandered around the studio looking at his other paintings. Peeta stared at the drape covered one.

"I'm going to take this one too." Peeta kept his gaze on the drape. "What is so interesting Mr. Peeta bread?"

"Nothing and everything."

Effie donned her sunglasses and took the paintings. "Peeta, stick to painting and leave the philosophy to idealistic college students." She whisked through the door.

Peeta let Effie out and walked back to the painting. He lifted the corner andH felt the finger go from the bottom of his spine to his neck. He arched his back. "Ahhh!"

"Who was that?" Katniss asked.

"Oh, Christ. You scared me. That was Effie. She owns the gallery that shows my work." He turned.

She wrapped her arms around him.

"Where were you?"

"Inside."

"But where."

"Dinner's ready." She kissed him and released his towel. "If you want to eat you better get dressed." She rubbed against him. "Or I'll attack you right here."

His pupils grew to the size of 8-balls as her skirt swished back and forth when she walked away. He shook his head and realized he was in his birthday suit.

"You're cute when you blush."

He sprinted back to the bathroom.

When Peeta took a break at work he picked up his messages.

* * *

 _Hello Peeta, it's Effie. Good news. I sold one of your paintings. I need another one. You weren't home so Finnick gave me his key to your loft. I took one from the studio. I have someone interested already. Bye-ee_

Peeta jumped up and down. "Whoa yeah." His wide smile could be seen from around the back.

"Why you so happy bro?" Rye asked.

"I sold a painting."

"Was it one with a nude babe in it?"

"No, it was ... shit." Peeta sprinted to the door.

"Hey, works not done."

He dialed as he ran. "Effie, pick up. Damn. Effie, call me now."

Peeta bolted through the door. "Katniss, where are you?" His calls were met with silence. His eyes darted to the empty easel. The girl in the meadow painting was missing. Katniss was gone.

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A/N: Thanks for the favs and follows. Reviews are most welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Peeta smacked his elbow on the doorjamb as he tore through the door. Between his sore arm and running, he had trouble dialing Effie. His heart raced, his mouth went dry. A sore throat came from him yelling at the phone. Peeta ran with the wind at his back.

The blue-wigged Effie stood behind the counter, he pushed through the door and dropped to the floor on all fours. Peeta panted and couldn't catch his breath.

She leaned over and patted her thighs. "Come here boy, what's wrong, Timmy fall down a well?" Effie said.

Peeta grabbed the counter and hoisted himself upright. "Where's the ..." He gasped for air.

"Speak boy, speak."

Peeta narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

"Alright, calm down, relax, take a deep breath."

"Thank you, Effie. Where is the painting, the one you picked up?"

"The Girl in the White Dress in Field of White Flowers?"

Peeta sneered at Effie. "How many paintings did you take?"

"One."

"Well, yes. The Girl in the White Dress in Field of White Flowers."

"She's very pretty. I like the white on white. It's very dreamy."

He smacked his head on the counter.

"Are you okay?"

"Just give it back?"

"Why?"

"I told you, it wasn't finished."

"Oh pish posh. It's perfect."

"Effie, please just give it to me."

"I can't, I sold it."

Peeta's eyes got tremendous. He grabbed his chest and bent over.

"Peeta, are you having a heart attack?"

He shook his head.

"Are you sure? You're really pale and you're grabbing your chest. How's your left arm?" She poked it with a pin.

"Ouch. Why did you do that?"

"They say something about your left arm when you're having a heart attack. Or was that a stroke. Now I'm not sure." Peeta turned beet read. The veins in his neck grew. "You don't look well. I'll call an ambulance."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I just have to get it back." He straightened himself up and pinched his lips. "Effie, who did you sell it to?

"Ceasar Flickerman."

Peeta lifted his eyebrows. "The TV guy with the blue hair?"

Effie bit the inside of his cheek and glared at Peeta.

"Oh, sorry Effie."

She stepped back and adjusted her wig. "He bought it for his husband's birthday."

Peeta paced around tapping his legs. "Just give me the money. I have to buy it back."

"No can do Peeta-Pocket."

"Why?"

Effie half-smiled. "Like you don't know. This sale finally pays off the money I advanced you." She placed her hands on his slumping shoulders. "You're very talented. Just paint another one. I can move your paintings. There's a market for art that people understand but is still a little mysterious."

"Okay, give me his address. Maybe I can get him to trade it for another."

Ceasar Flickerman was a well-known longtime local TV personality. His interviews of celebrities and fluff stories were perfect for escapist viewing. He was known for his outlandish clothing and colorful wigs.

Peeta brought three paintings to the Flickerman household. It was a majestic four-story townhouse in the toniest neighborhood in the city. He knocked on the door. An older white haired man with a mullet answered the door. Peeta had seen Miami Vice on TV Land and his gray suit and black tee shirt dated him to the 1980s.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to speak to Caesar Flickerman, please."

The man on the other side of the threshold stepped back and folded his arms. "Why?"

"He just bought one of my paintings-"

"Oh my God, that was you." He waved his arm and walked away. "Close the door and follow me."

Peeta walked through the marble-floored foyer. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling over an antique oak table with a vase filled with blue chrysanthemums.

"You like the flowers?"

"Yes."

"Good, today is his blue day. Ceasar, we have a visitor." His voice echoed through in the two-story atrium lined with a staircase on each wall. Artwork adorned the walls. Tables with antique vases and statues decorated the room.

Peeta's eyes opened wide. "You're Claudius Templesmith, aren't you?"

His longtime companion, Claudius Templesmith, was also in the media. He announced for many news and talk shows with his loud, booming voice. Everybody knew his voice but nobody knew what he looked like.

Claudius turned around. "Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing."

"I recognized your voice."

"Yup, I'm just a disembodied soul whose voice comes from the sky. CEASAR, WE'VE GOT COMPANY."

Caesar Flickerman stood at the top of the stairs. The reflected light from his teeth was blinding. "I heard you, Claudius." He glared at him. "THE FIRST TIME." He looked like a blue-tinted disco ball sashaying down the steps. Even his hair glittered blue.

"So, who do we have he?" Caesar asked.

"This is the artist of that painting you bought for the drawing room."

Caesar's eyes lit up. He stretched out his hand and grabbed Peeta's. He patted him on the shoulder with the other. "Peeta Mellark. So good to meet you. Come and see where we put your work of art."

"You mean where you put it," Claudius mumbled.

"You say something Claudius?" Claudius kept silent and trailed behind.

The Girl in the White Dress in Field of White Flowers hung in the middle of the wall. An assortment of paintings surrounded it. "We gave it a place of honor."

"You mean-"

Caesar cut off Claudius. "Like I said, a place of honor." He turned to Peeta. "So what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Effie sold this painting by accident."

"Oh, that's too bad," Caesar said.

"I'd like you to take something else in its place."

Claudius bounded across the room. "Oh, thank the gods. Let's see what you have."

"Absolutely not," Caesar said. He brushed off Claudius with a flick of his hand.

"Well, I want to see," Claudius said.

Peeta opened the case. "No, not that one. Too bright. No, not that one either. Too country. I like this one. It's perfect."

Peeta smiled broadly. "So we can trade?"

Caesar turned his back. "No."

"Yes, with a few changes." Claudius placed his chin in his hand. "Make the girl a boy. Have buildings behind him instead of mountains. Put clouds in the sky instead of sunlight. Dress him like it's the 1930s instead of contemporary. Have him hold a stack of newspapers instead of a baby."

"Is that all?" Peeta asked.

"Like I said, it's perfect." Claudius grabbed Caesar's arm. "Please, Caesar, for me." Claudius flicked his eyes at Caesar, pouted his lips then gave him a peck. "Please."

"Oh, Claudius, you know how to tug at my heart."

They stared into each other's eyes.

"But no. It stays."

They separated and argued so fast Peeta couldn't understand them. His heart shrunk. Pain radiated from his stomach. He looked at the painting and felt his arms around Katniss. He wished she would jump out of the painting now so they could run away.

Peeta left the couple arguing and took his slumping head out the door. A delivery boy from the supermarket stopped at the townhouse. He lifted the box from his cart and walked through a service door without using a key.

Peeta's eyes lit up and he sprinted to the subway.

Peeta printed a copy of the painting and taped it the wall of the studio. He attached the canvas to the easel and prepared his paints. Stepping back, he sighed, but this was the only course of action he could think of, Katniss had to come back to him.

He struggled, constantly referring to the printed copy. The strokes didn't flow like before, he wasn't inspired. He felt like a forger, not an artist.

The hours that followed exhausted him, but he finished. No two paintings were ever the same. He hoped it was close enough to fool Ceasar Flickerman. He checked the clock. It was hours until daytime when he had to have it framed.

After leaving a message for his mother that he was taking the day off, he poured a cup of strong black coffee and pulled out another canvas. He spent the rest of the night painting. Inspiration returned, his strokes flowed, colors blended with ease.

Peeta stepped back and admired his work. He shook his head. "Not bad." He placed the Katniss copy and the Paperboy from the 1930s painting in the case. He set out for Finnick's Frames.

"Hey Peeta, no work today?" Finnick asked.

"I need a rush job." Peeta picked the same frame he saw at Caesars. "This style, for both."

"Let's see what you have." He pulled the girl out of the portfolio. "Hey, someone buy her?"

"Yeah, you could say that. This one too."

Finnick's eyes widened. "When did you do this?"

"Last night."

"When are you picking them up?"

"Two hours."

"Two hours. No way, I got a backlog."

"Thanks, Finnick."

Peeta sat in the back room on the sofa and fell asleep. His dream came alive. He chased after Katniss but never caught up with her.

He felt a poke. "Peeta, wake up."

The harsh, fluorescent light blinded him. "Ahh, oh it's only you."

"Who did you expect?"

"Someone with longer hair, browner eyes, softer skin and-"

"Boobs," Finnick said.

"Yes, and boobs."

"Yeah, I dream of boobs too. Your frame jobs are ready."

Finnick wrapped the two paintings. Peeta rushed through the door.

"Bye Peeta, no need to thank me." Peeta waved. "Or pay me."

Peeta staked out the door from the alley next to the townhouse. He tried to dry his hands on his pants but the sweat always returned. He took a deep breath and suppressed the sound of his pounding heart. He inched towards the service door when he heard the front door open. He slipped back to his hiding place.

Claudius followed Caesar through the front door. Claudius dressed in a similar outfit as yesterday. Caesar looked like a walking hedge. Today must be his green day."I told you I was doing an interview today," Caesar said.

"No, you didn't. I know your schedule by heart," Claudius said.

"What does it matter. All you have to do is introduce the segment."

"You know I need to prepare my voice. You can't just spring this on me at the last minute."

"Stop whining and get in the car."

The black car sped off and Peeta made his move. He tried the knob, his heart sunk, it didn't turn. The smile returned when he turned it the other way. Silence met him, he looked for an alarm keypad, none.

He meandered through the first floor. Two small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom were up front. A gym and a utility room in the back. He decided to use the small servant's stairs instead of the main stairs.

The old stairs creaked as he climbed them. Peeta wasn't sure if there were any servants in the house. He opened the door an inch and peeked into the kitchen. It was bigger than his apartment. "Wow, the other half knows how to live. Or at least, how to cook."

He tried to walk quietly but he never possessed a silent step. He found the drawing room. Katniss was just where he saw it last. He took the original off the wall and replaced it.

He heard a voice. "You need to arrange Mr. Caesar's wigs in the correct order." Peeta hid behind a door.

"I understand sir. But what does it matter?"

"Look, he's nuts, it doesn't matter what we think. Just put them in order: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet. Just like the rainbow."

"What about black, white, gray and brown?"

"They don't matter, he doesn't wear such pedestrian colors."

Peeta was met by three pairs of eyes when the door closed. "Who are you?" Asked a tall man dressed in black. He sported a thin black mustache and close-cropped black hair. A tattoo of a chain wrapped around his neck.

The sweat pouring out of Peeta's palms could fill a tub. He lost all saliva in his mouth. "I'm Peeta Meelark."

"Hello, Peeta Mellark. Who are you?"

"I'm the artist."

"Okay, Peeta Mellark the artist. Why are you here?"

Peeta blinked, he lost the ability to speak.

"Well?"

"I'm delivering a painting. I came through the delivery entrance. I was looking for someone to leave it with."

"Flavius, Octavia, Venia where are you?" Claudius Templesmith was home.

"In here Mr. Claudius. I thought you went to the studio with Mr. Caesar."

"I had a fight with him so I came home. Make me a Dirty Martini with extra dirt." Claudius' eyes lit up. "Mr. Mellark, what are you doing here?"

"I'm delivering the painting." Claudius cocked his head. Peeta opened the portfolio and showed him the Paperboy painting. Claudius gasped and brought his hands to his chest.

"It's wonderful." He showed it to the trio.

"Oh, very nice Mr. Claudius. Very nice," Flavius said. Octavia nodded. Claudius went to hang it. Flavius opened his mouth and stuck two fingers in, Octavia and Venia agreed.

"So you really like it?" Claudius asked.

"Oh, yes Mr. Claudius," they said in unison.

He handed the Katniss painting to Peeta. "Take this away." He turned and admired the new painting. "Far away."

Peeta slid the copy in the portfolio and bolted from the scene of the crime.

When he got home he pulled them out. "Damn, maybe I could make it as a forger?" He looked for the mark he made on the back of the copy and put the original on the easel.

Peeta sat in the recliner and waited for Katniss to return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Peeta felt a weight on his chest. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. When he opened his eyes he saw Katniss curled up on his lap like a kitten. He thought he heard her purr. Her head was over his heart. If she was awake she'd hear it pounding. He ran his fingers through her long dark hair.

She yawned and stretched. Her eyes flickered, she rubbed them. "Hello," Katniss said. She cupped her hand around his neck. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. They were moist and soft. Warmth spread over his body.

Peeta put his arms under her and stood. She never took her lips off his. He carried her to his bed and laid her down. On all fours, he knelt over her. They locked eyes.

She unbuttoned her shirt, then her bra. Peeta kissed her chest, Katniss grabbed Peeta's hair and moaned. She reached down and undressed Peeta while he removed her pants. Naked, they buried themselves under the down comforter.

Like vines, their limbs wrapped around each other. Their hearts beat as one. He crawled on top of her. When she dug her nails into his back and bit his shoulders he went faster. She arched her back, every muscle in her body tensed and then relaxed. They collapsed together on the bed.

Peeta rolled off her and pulled her into him. They were one.

The alarm went off at 2:30 AM as usual. Peeta garnered enough energy to turn it off.

"I can't believe you get up this early every day," Katniss said.

Peeta watched her roll over and scamper off to the bathroom. He wiped the sleepies out of his eyes and collected his clothing for the day. He stood and stretched, and found himself flying back to the bed.

Katniss had tackled him. He lay on his back and she straddled him. Like a panther about to jump her prey, she pierced him with her dark eyes.

"Hey, I gotta go to work."

She reached down and stroked him.

"I really have to go to work."

She kissed his chest.

Peeta stared at the ceiling as Katniss kissed him. Pictures of orchids made of icing and cement shoes swirled through his head.

Katniss backed off. "What's wrong?"

"I really have to get up and go to work."

"Then don't let me stop you." She rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"I'll come straight home after work."

"Whatever."

* * *

Hey, you're late again. I knew the other day was a fluke."

Every nerve in Peeta's body lit up. "Good morning mother."

"Don't good morning me, get to work. You have a wedding cake to do. I hope your orchids are up to snuff."

Peeta sighed and rolled his head.

"If they aren't, we might find you buried under a sports stadium."

With his head hung low he went to work. He squeezed the piping bag and made the base of the orchid. Next came the petals. He moved on to the next one.

After he finished he stood back and admired his work. He squeezed icing into his mouth. He winced as the sugar attacked his teeth.

"What is that?" His mother asked.

"Those are the orchids."

"Were they stomped on by an elephant?"

His head fell fast.

"Try again before you're wearing cement shoes."

* * *

Peeta fingered through the local arts magazine. He had off today and he wanted to go out with Katniss.

"There's a band I'd like to see playing at the club. Maybe we can have dinner out and see the show after." He didn't get an answer, he walked to the kitchen and saw her over the stove. "Did you hear me?"

She nodded yes, "but I already made dinner."

He meandered into the kitchen. Crackling oil came from the stove. "What are you making?"

"Guess."

"Chicken?" She shook her head. "Beef?" Another no response. "What's left, squirrel?"

Katniss opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out. "Ewe, that's disgusting."

Peeta leaned over and took in the aroma. He smiled, "lamb, right?" She smiled back. "How about the show afterward?"

Katniss leaned her head against the door jam and bit her lip. "Do you mind if we watch a movie at home tonight?"

He lowered his head. "No, of course not." Peeta puttered around the loft. He had cabin fever. Not for the great outdoors, but just someplace besides the loft and work. He yearned to show Katniss the sights and sounds that made the city come alive.

He asked himself if she was afraid of the outdoor. "Impossible, she is in a field in the painting," he muttered. Museums, galleries, clubs were out there but Peeta wouldn't enjoy them without Katniss.

* * *

Finnick almost spat out his beer. "Oh crap, there she is."

"You're right, she's cute. I like the red hair," Peeta said.

"And those green eyes." Finnick kept his gaze on the girl.

Finnick's pupils dilated and his breathing quickened. Peeta smirked. "You're like a lovesick teenager." Peeta went back to his beer.

"I'm gonna make another pass at her. Come with me."

"Nope, I'm staying right here."

"You have to come with me. She's got a friend."

She had a smile that lit up a room, but she wasn't right for him. Peeta shook his head.

"Why not? Oh, that's right, your imaginary girlfriend."

Peeta looked over at the friend. His heart didn't jump, his breathing stayed steady. "No thanks."

"I see, not your type. What's wrong with this one, too short? Too flat? Hair not dark enough?"

"That's it, I've had enough."

"If you two are going to fight, take it outside," the bartender said.

Peeta and Finnick backed away from each other.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Finnick said. Peeta nodded in return. "I'm just worried about you bud."

"I'll be fine. I gotta go."

Peeta sloshed through every puddle on the way home. He wiped the rain off his face. He meandered past one storefront after another. Stopping at Effie's gallery, he stared at the fake Katniss painting in the window waiting to be exhibited next week. He placed his hand on the window and tried to feel her. He frowned and walked home.

"I'm home." Katniss didn't respond. Peeta peeked through the bedroom door.

Katniss sat on the bed with her arms wrapped around her legs. She rocked back and forth. She kept her gaze on the wall.

"Hi, why didn't you answer me?"

"Where were you?"

"I was out with Finnick."

"Oh, the mysterious Finnick."

"Where is this coming from?" She threw the covers off and bolted to the bathroom. "I'll invite him over if you want to meet him. Where are you going?"

She slammed the bathroom door. "Get out of here!"

Peeta paced the apartment. His pulse quickened. He punched his fist into his hand as he muttered to himself. _Why is she acting like this? What happened to her? Why did she change?_

Sweat poured down his face. His breathing wouldn't slow. He leaned against the wall. A pain in his stomach radiated through his chest.

Peeta fell to the floor. He blinked and closed his eyes.

He shook his head and screamed. Peeta sniffled in water through his nose and coughed. "What the hell?" He sat up and coughed again. Katniss stood over him with an empty pitcher.

"I'm sorry. You passed out. I didn't know what else to do."

Peeta grabbed the wall and pulled himself up. "No, you did okay." He wiped his face and straightened up. "I'm better."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself into him. "Don't ever scare me like that again. I want you to stay with me forever."

He kissed the top of her head. "I will." The room spun and Katniss helped him to the bed.

"Here, lie down. Why did you faint?" She asked.

Peeta looked away and thought about the last few seconds before he fainted. He remembered smacking his fist into his palm. His next thought was punching the door she was behind. He wasn't angry, he was furious with her when his body shut down.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably too many beers with Finnick."

She crawled next to him and held him tight. Not a molecule of air separated them.

* * *

"Come on in. Just let me get my bag," Peeta said.

Finnick wandered through Peeta's studio. He lifted the drape off an easel. He rubbed his chin and tilted his head and then threw the drape back over it.

"What do you think of my new piece?"

Finnick's eyes widened. "So what do you want to do after the sketch crawl?"

Not getting a straight answer, Peeta sighed. "I know. It's not that good. Come on, let's go."

Finnick followed Peeta and caught the Katniss painting out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, what did you do?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Her hair."

Peeta opened his mouth but nothing came out. His eyes narrowed.

"She's hot now with the blonde, short hair," Finnick said. "I'm surprised you changed her. I have a suggestion, I'd make her chest bigger."

Peeta glared at Finnick. "But I didn't do it."

"Did the imaginary girl cut her own and then use Clairol?"

 _How could she have done it? When she's live, she's not in the painting. If she's in the painting, she couldn't change it._ Peeta rubbed his temples. "Come on, let's go."

Surrounded by other artists, Peeta emptied his mind and let his pencil go wild.

"That's pretty good. I like the cafe." Finnick cocked his head. "You sketched everyone sitting out front except for the girl at the end table."

Peeta looked at the sketch, then to the cafe, then to the sketch. He lost his inspiration. "Let's move on."

* * *

They ate dinner in silence. Peeta kept imagining her with the long dark hair she had.

"I don't understand you," Katniss said.

He brought his fork to his mouth and ignored her.

"What is wrong with you?"

He kept his gaze on his magazine.

"Look, I don't need your permission to get my hair cut."

"I never said you did. And who cut it anyway?"

"None of your business."

Peeta walked to the studio and focused on the spot where the girl should be. He thought about how different Katniss had become.

"Oh my God. Is that the only thing you can do when we fight. Run to that God damn painting?"

Peeta turned, Katniss glared at him. He went to the kitchen and opened a beer.

"Christ Peeta, will you talk to me?"

He placed his hands on the counter and leaned over. "Will you just get off my back."

"That's it." She picked up a steak knife and bolted to the studio.

"What are you doing?"

She lifted her arm, pierced the painting and sliced it from top to bottom.

Peeta's heart was ripped apart at the same time. He lunged at her and grabbed the knife.

Katniss cut her hand. She stared at the blood and smeared the painting.

"No, stop it."

She tore the painting into small pieces. "Now you have nothing to run to."

Peeta went to the floor on all fours and collected the pieces. He narrowed his eyes and picked up the knife. He looked for her in the kitchen. It was empty, also the bathroom. The bedroom too. He never heard the front door open. His face softened, he dropped the knife and searched every square inch of the apartment.

He dropped to his knees. Katniss was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Wake up handsome."

Peeta rolled over. Her soft lips sped up his heart. Every muscle in his body went from tensed to relaxed as her hand glided over his body. He reached up and stroked her hair. He allowed his eyes to open. They darted around the empty room. Deflated, Peeta realized it was just another dream. A similar one that had haunted him every night for weeks.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Footsteps came from the studio. He threw off the covers and bolted from the room.

What took him seconds felt like hours. Katniss was back. He didn't know what to do first. Yell at her for leaving or hug and kiss her for returning.

"Oh, it's you," Peeta said.

"Who were you expecting?"

"Finnick, what are you doing here?"

Finnick stood by six similar paintings sitting on easels. All with a girl in a field of white flowers.

"Get away from them Finnick." Peeta's muscles quivered and his body hardened. He clenched his fist and smacked it against the wall. Finnick's eyes grew and all the color abandoned his face. He marched to the paintings and pulled the drapes over them.

"I was worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"After work, you come home and hole up." He lifted one drape. "And this is all you paint."

"Just get out."

"Come on, let's go to dinner."

Peeta's footsteps echoed through the studio. He opened the front door.

"You got to go out sometimes."

Motionless, Peeta held the door open.

"Okay bud, if you change your mind I'll-" The closing door cut Finnick off.

Peeta shuffled around the loft in a circuit, always ending up in the studio. He deposited himself in the recliner and stared at the paintings. Each one created in an effort to bring his perfect girl back.

He sagged in the recliner. The paintings blurred through his wet eyes. Peeta rubbed his hands together as a chill ran up his spine. He pulled an afghan Katniss had crocheted over himself. The faint scent of her shampoo filled his nose.

"Hey you."

He tried to stand but he got stuck in the soft chair. "Hello, Mother." Lying in the fetal position on the recliner he was forced to look up at her, a rarity.

"You look like crap."

"Thanks, Mother."

"I hope you don't expect me to nurse you back to health like a sick little baby boy."

"I don't Mother. You don't-"

"Good, so get up and eat something. You lose any more weight we'll have to scoop you up with a spatula." She ripped the afghan off him and tossed it across the floor. "And take a shower. You smell like a hobo."

Peeta sat and glared at her. She twisted his ear.

"Ouch."

"Now." She led him off to the bathroom.

"Mother, let go. I'm an adult."

She kicked him in the rear. "Then act like one."

After his shower, Peeta found his mother examining the paintings.

"Is this her?"

"Who?"

"The girl who turned you into a crybaby, wimp, cream puff with a jellyfish spine."

"Mother, no one turned me into a crybaby, wimp ... um"

"Cream puff with a jellyfish spine."

"Thank you, Mother."

She did a three-sixty and looked at every wall of the studio. "Is this the only thing that you've painted lately?"

"No."

"Where are the others?"

Peeta sighed and rolled his head. "Yes, that's all I've painted."

She picked up a brush and a tube paint and shoved it in his chest. "Paint something else."

"It's not that easy. I'm not motivated."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh boo hoo. Let me tell you something young man. Your father gets up every day and bakes whether he's motivated or not."

"That's his job Mother. Painting is my passion."

She stood on her toes and pressed her finger into Peeta's chest. "Don't you ever say that again. Your father is as passionate about baking as you are about painting. When we opened our first bakery he worked day and night creating new products. I remember how happy he looked when he rushed up front with a spoonful of batter or a muffin. His smile lit up the room. He'd hand it to me and say taste it."

His mother grinned and nodded. "If I didn't like it I'd say it right away, but always with an encouraging word added on. If I liked it I had a little fun."

Peeta gave his full attention. He never associated fun with his mother.

"I'd chew and pretend to be thinking and make him wait. He'd step back and pace. Then I would say I liked it. It was a little ritual we shared and loved. You know he still does it."

"I never noticed."

"He walks instead of running, though. And he only brings stuff I'll love. He knows my tastes by now. But the thrill is still there. I can see it on his face when he smiles." A tear formed in her eye, she turned. Her voice softened. "And not just because it was his job, but because it was his passion."

Peeta stepped back and rubbed his neck. His face flushed and he had trouble swallowing.

"Peeta, bakers bake." She took his arm and pulled him down. She planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "And painters paint."

* * *

"We'll set up the cameras here. You'll interview the artists on the couch," the director Cressida said.

"Where is my chair?" Caesar asked.

Cressida's assistant Messalla brought over a velvet wingback chair. Caesar ran his hand over the plush fabric. "What do you think of the color?"

"It matches your outfit perfectly," Cressida said.

"Caesar." Effie Trinket bounded across the room. She and Caesar fake kissed each other like self-absorbed celebrities usually do. "Thanks for doing a segment showcasing the city's up and coming artists."

"You look beautiful as usual. It looks like you're wearing a Cinna original. And I love the color of your ..." Caesar gasped. "Excuse me, Effie. I have to go to makeup."

Caesar scurried away. "Flavius, Flavius. Where are you?"

Flavius, Venia, and Octavia darted over. "Yes, Mr. Caesar."

"Look at my wig. Do you see what's wrong? Well, do you?"

"It is your regular Tuesday wig, orange."

"And who else is in orange?"

"Oh my God, Miss Trinket is," Octavia blurted out.

"We can't be seen in the same color. We'll look like a pair of clowns."

"As opposed to two individual clowns," Claudius muttered.

"What did you say, Claudius?"

"Just agreeing with you Caesar. Would you like the blue wig?"

"No, I'm not feeling too blue today."

"Yellow?" Octavia asked.

"Too hot."

"Red?" Venia asked.

Caesar pinched his lips and narrowed his eyes. "If I think yellow is hot why would I want red?"

"Maybe green?" Masella asked.

"No, I'll clash with Octavia."

"I've got it. Violet," Flavius said.

"Oh Flavius, you're a genius. Get my violet outfit and wig." He sat and Claudius rubbed his shoulders. "That feels so good." He jumped out of the chair. "Oh, crap. Massella, change this chair."

"Peeta."

His body relaxed and his smile was broad. "Hi, thanks for coming."

His father's bear paw sized hands engulfed Peeta's and he dragged him to him. "Congratulations son."

"Thanks, Dad. Hey Graham, Rye. Thanks for coming."

"No prob bro," Rye said.

"What do you guys think?"

"That one's nice. It ain't no 'Dogs Playing Poker,' but I like it," Graham said.

As the brothers wandered off Peeta's mother appeared.

"Thanks for coming, Mother."

"Thanks for inviting us."

"I think you'll like my work."

"I always love your paintings. You're very talented."

"They are good. I've progressed."

She tapped his face. "Don't get a fat head now."

They hugged, warmth enveloped Peeta.

"You've been a busy little beaver Peeta-Bread," Effie said. "Was that your mother?"

"Yes."

"She's nothing like you described. You said she was a -"

"Never mind Effie."

"Now go mingle with the guests and sell some paintings."

"Peeta Mellark, get over here." Caesar Flickerman came over, arms wide, in his brightest purple outfit. "This exhibit is magnificent."

"Thank you, Caesar. Besides the two you and Claudius loaned us for the exhibit I've got six new ones."

"I particularly like this one." He followed Caesar to a painting on the far wall. Peeta eyed Claudius. His eyes were wide and he shook his head. Peeta aimed him towards a different painting. "Caesar, maybe this one might be better in your home." Claudius gave the thumbs up.

Peeta aimed him towards a different painting. "Caesar, maybe this one might be better in your home." Claudius gave the thumbs up.

"You might be right." Caesar examined the painting. Claudius took Caesar's arm and joined him.

Finnick walked over hand in hand with a young woman. She had long red hair. Peeta remembered her from the bar.

"Hey Peeta, this is Annie,"

"Nice to meet you," Peeta said. Her green eyes pierced him.

"Congratulations Peeta. If you two would excuse me, I'm going to use the ladies room."

They watched her leave. Finnick sighed.

"I see you remembered her name," Peeta said. "You were right, it did begin with A"

"It looks like a nice turnout." Finnick motioned to a young woman across the room. "Go speak to her, she's from the press. I saw her with a notebook talking to Effie. Go turn on that Peeta charm even though she's not your type."

"What do you mean by that?"

Finnick raised one eyebrow. "It's good that you are out. Go."

He meandered around the room before he approached her. She was petite with short blonde hair. She wore a bulky sweater that shrouded her body. Brown boots went to her knees.

He took a deep breath. "How do you like it?"

She kept her eyes on the landscape he painted. "It's okay, but I don't know art." She tapped her pencil against her pink lips.

"You don't have to know anything about art, just whether it makes you feel good."

She turned to Peeta. Her eyes were blue and her makeup was subtle. She was trying to appear serious.

"Are you with a paper?" He asked.

"The City Shopper," she said.

"The thing with all the coupons?"

"We have articles."

"Oh, I'll have to start reading it."

"We're online too."

Peeta outlined her face with his eyes. She had a small, pixie-like nose that went well with her hair. She turned her head when she realized he was staring at her.

Peeta took a deep breath. "Here, what does this painting say to you?"

She stood back and focused on Katniss. "The white flowers don't say a thing but the girl wants something. You can tell by her eyes."

"What does she want?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe the artist does."

He led her over to the next one. "How about this one."

"The buildings are sorta depressing. I wouldn't want to be there." Peeta nodded. She looked closer. "The paperboy wants something too."

"What?"

"That's easy, he wants the girl in the next painting." She giggled and they shared a smile.

"How about this one?"

Her face softened. "I like the forest, I can smell the pines. I can see them swaying in the wind. And it helps that green is my favorite. I also like the color of the setting sun."

"Well, then it's good orange is my favorite color."

"You picked a better shade than Effie's hair."

She covered her mouth when she laughed.

"Peeta, it's your turn to be interviewed by Caesar," Cressida said.

"Okay." He turned to the girl and held out his hand. "I'm the artist, Peeta Mellark."

"Very nice to meet you, Peeta Mellark, the artist."

"After the interview, I'd like to speak to you some more."

She shook her head.

"Maybe some coffee afterward."

"I don't drink coffee."

"Tea?"

"No, hot chocolate."

"Well, then you're in luck. I happen to know where they have the best hot chocolate in the city."

A half smile appeared on her face. She tried to hide her blush.

"Then you'll still be here when I finish, you won't leave."

"I'll be here Peeta Mellark, the artist. I won't leave."

* * *

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoyed the little rom-com. Please review. That is the one perk writer's get on FanFiction. I'm not sure what's next. Maybe anther Detective Mellark story or something else. Let me know what you'd like to see.


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